My Once and Future Self
by PEF
Summary: During a Death Eater attack on Diagon Alley Hermione gets sent back to 1976. But despite her attempts to stick to the rules, she can’t idly stand by as people she now knows are going to die. Because every HP fan should write a time travel fic. HGRL
1. An Unexpected Proposal

**Title**: My Once and Future Self

**Author**: PEF

**Rating**: T

**Summary**: During a Death Eater attack on Diagon Alley Hermione gets sent back to 1976. But despite her attempts to stick to the rules, she can't idly stand by as people she now knows are going to die. Because every HP fan should write a time travel fic. This is mine.

**Disclaimer**: It's all JKR's. I own none of it. Please don't sue. Also, the title was blatantly stolen from "The Once and Future King" and modified to suit my nefarious purposes. Similarly, the up and coming "I'm dead." "That's serious. Can I help?" lines are taken from the movie Orlando, based upon the book by the same name written by Virginia Woolf.

Credit where credit is due.

…

Hermione Granger frowned as she looked around Diagon Alley. It was undoubtedly familiar, yet undeniably strange at the same time. The once boisterous and crowded street was now quiet and solemn as people hurried from one place to another in large groups, trying to get their shopping done as quickly as possible. She started as she felt Mrs. Weasley's tug on her shoulder.

"Come now Hermione, don't stray too far. All right there Harry dear?"

The messy-haired bespectacled boy in question looked up and nodded at the older woman who gave him a small smile in return.

"Stick together now all of you. This way Ginny dear, we can stop by the apothecary later. To Flourish and Blotts now, everyone!"

Hermione was quickly enveloped by the wave of red-haired people who moved towards the bookstore at the far end of the alley. She smiled slightly at the thought of returning to Hogwarts, and to her studies. Though she wasn't overly fond of the title bookworm, she was well aware that it was much deserved. Yet she lived for books, and for studying. It gave her something to do with herself, and kept her mind from wandering off and rotting. Needless to say she was looking forward to the coming school year.

A sudden flurry of cracks sounded throughout the alley, followed almost immediately by screams. Hermione whirled around to see a mass of people in black robes cutting through the crowd throwing off spells left and right.

"Run! Hermione, Run!"

And she did, with Harry and Ron running beside her. But there were people everywhere, pushing and shoving her in all directions, and she soon lost sight of them. Hermione was completely unable to discern left from right; stuck in the middle of what could only be considered a hysterical mob she fought desperately to not be trampled, pushing her way slowly but surely towards the edge of the mass of people. Finally, slipping between a rather large woman who was waving her wand around and pointing it at anything that moved (which in the mass of people was quite a few things), and a man who seemed to be frantically looking for someone she broke free of the group and took of running.

She had no idea where she was going. It briefly registered in her mind that this wasn't a particularly good thing, and that if she were going to escape she really ought to know where she was headed, or at least find Harry or Ron. But all thoughts of her destination were erased from her mind as a sharp pain cut across her back and into her forearms. She turned around to see a Death Eater walking steadily up the path towards her.

Without a thought she turned and ran as fast as her legs would carry her up the alleyway. Needless to say she was surprised when she ran straight into a teenage boy.

…

James Potter frowned as he reached up to ruffle his already messy hair.

"Face it Prongs, she's not here."

James huffed in annoyance and turned to his three friends.

"She's here. she has to be. She comes shopping this week every year."

Remus looked at his friend in amusement, "James we've looked everywhere. She's not at the Leaky Cauldron, Madame Malkins, Florean Fortescue's –"

"—the apothecary, Flourish and Blotts, the bloody pet shop –" Sirius interrupted.

"—Quality Quiddich Supplies, down Knockturn Alley, Gambol and Japes –" Peter added, without missing a beat.

" – in short: she's not bloody here." finished Sirius with a flourish, emphasising his point with slightly over-exaggerated hand gestures.

James ruffled his hair again. Sirius tapped his foot impatiently. Peter rolled his eyes good-naturedly. Remus bit back the smile that had been threatening to escape for the last five minutes.

"Well… I guess she's not here," he finally admitted.

Sirius looked at his long time best friend in exasperation. "James, look around: _no one_ is here."

And he was right. The were standing in a seldom used part of Diagon Alley, filled with flats of dubious looking quality with 'for rent' signs plastered up. James looked around with a frown.

"D'you reckon we should head back then?" he asked, slightly sheepishly.

Remus cut off whatever sarcastic remark Sirius was about to let loose with a placidly stated, "that would be a good idea."

James smiled apologetically. "I don't get it though. She's always here at this time of year. You don't reckon something happened to her do you?"

Peter rolled his eyes again. "James, have you ever considered the possibility that she might be avoiding you?"

"Why would Lily want to avoid me?"

Sirius put on a hideously theatrical expression clearly meant to imply deep thought. "Hmm… could it be that you've asked her out frequently over the past two years? And that she has repeatedly refuted said advances?"

"I believe she did mention something about preferring the giant squid to you, now that you mention it," added Remus, no longer able to control his amusement.

"Perhaps it is because she has clearly stated that you are, what was it again Moony? Ah! Yes, an arrogant toe-rag!" Sirius pronounced gleefully.

"I'm sure she didn't mean it," James mumbled.

Peter snorted, "Sure she didn't."

"Furthermore," Sirius continued as if James hadn't said anything, "she thinks you're a git, a bully and rather hot headed. And she hates that thing that you do to your hair."

James' hand paused in midair halfway on its merry way to ruffling his hair, yet again. He glared accusingly at it as if it were the cause of Lily's dislike for him. Then seeing that Sirius was about to continue with his tirade he abruptly changed the subject.

"We should get back, it's getting late. My parents are going to wonder where we've wandered off to."

"Oh no! What time is it?" Peter asked suddenly.

"Erm… Almost six, why?"

"I have to pick up Penny! I can't believe I almost forgot," he said.

"Penny your sister?" Sirius asked.

"Do you know any other Pennys?" Peter asked dryly.

"Well… there's one fifth year Hufflepuff –"

Peter rolled his eyes and swatted his friend lightly. "I've gotta go guys, sorry. If I don't get Penny nobody will. I'll catch up with you later."

"Bye Peter, we'll see you later." Remus said over Sirius' indignant yelps at having been swatted.

"He's always rushing off to pick up his sister, or to take her someplace. If it was Regulus who wanted to go somewhere I'd leave him in a ditch." Sirius remarked after getting over the indignity of having been whacked.

James snorted. "Yeah, but unlike you Peter actually cares about his sibling."

Sirius grumbled, "Yeah, but that's because Penny isn't a pureblooded Slytherin suck-up."

Then, rather suddenly, James was bowled over by a rather bushy haired someone.

…

Hermione jumped back as elegantly as she could, considering the circumstances, immediately after crashing headlong into James Potter. In other words: she shoved him backwards and managed to land rather spectacularly on her ass.

She looked up and smiled slightly recognizing the familiar mound of untameable inky hair. "Harry!"

James, already startled from having been run over was at a complete loss as to how to respond to the strange girl. Particularly after she called him Harry.

"Erm. Sorry… I think you're a little confused. I'm James. James Potter."

She started at him as if she were looking right through him. It was terrifyingly unnerving.

Hermione too was at a complete loss as to what to make of him. She saw now, looking closer, the differences between James Potter and his son. The most evident being his eyes, which were a gentle hazel instead of the familiar bright green she was used to.

After a minute of her staring James began to get a little worried. "Err… are you alright?"

"I'm dead."

It took Hermione a moment to register that she'd said the words aloud. Still, it seemed a reasonable explanation. James was dead, she was dead. Clearly it all made sense, right?

James, now almost certain he had a concussion of some sort replied (rather smartly), "dead. That's serious. Can I help?"

She almost laughed at the absurdity of it all. "No. Not unless you happen to have a son."

She could really use Harry right about now. She was all books and pre-prescribed learning curriculum. And this definitely exceeded the norm, which was Harry's turf.

"Er, no. Not as of yet. But if you're interested in getting a head start you're welcome to marry me."

He nearly whacked himself as soon as the words were out of his mouth. Definitely a concussion. He was probably unconscious right now as madam Pomfrey fussed over him with her healing potions and grumbled about teenagers and the dangers of the outside world. Which would mean this was all a silly dream, and he wouldn't have to endure the unmerciful teasing of Sirius once he regained his senses.

Hermione blushed slightly despite herself. Then barely resisted the urge to smack herself in the face. This was truly weird. She tried to stand, but wound up feeling very dizzy and would have fallen over if a pair of strong arms hadn't caught her.

"You're bleeding," Sirius remarked from somewhere that sounded far above her. Really he was standing just off to the left.

Hermione looked down and frowned, she was bleeding. _How did that happen?_

"Oh. Ow." And then she passed out.

…

**Parting Shots**: I suck at righting fight scenes… so I imagine the first part was god awful. However if you managed to get past that and found any of the rest of it passable please drop a review and let me know.


	2. Repeated Explanations

…

"A marriage proposal within less than five minutes of having met the girl. That's go to be a record Prongs, even for you."

James stared stupidly at the girl who had crashed headlong into him no less than five minutes ago.

Remus looked worriedly down at her, he was, of course, the one who caught her as she passed out being the most considerate of the group, and having noticeably better reflexes than any of the others.

"We should bring her back to your parents. It looks like she's lost a lot of blood."

James nodded stupidly. Remus picked her up as if she were no lighter than his school bag (added strength was one of the few bonuses that he gained from his 'furry little problem'), and Sirius trudged along behind him casting glances between the stupefied James and the unconscious Hermione.

…

Miranda Potter prided herself on being an unusually calm and reserved woman. Very little managed to stun her, especially after sixteen years of having a particularly mischievous son – during the last six of which he'd also had his three equally mischievous friends around too. So when Remus Lupin came running up carrying a bushy haired girl who was clearly unconscious and attempted to launch into an explanation of why this was so she hardly batted an eyelash.

It was only due to six years of practice at unravelling the convoluted conversations of the teenage boys who had befriended her only son that she understood a word of their explanation at all.

"Mrs. Potter! Help! She's bleeding, I think. She came out of nowhere –" Remus started to explain.

"—Crashed right into James. I don't think she's right in the head." Continued Sirius.

"She's dead. It's very serious." That was James, still slightly concussed and rather befuddled.

"—Nearly bashed James' head in. He wants to marry her, though I always thought he was a little strange…"

"My name's not Harry." James again.

"—I think she's been attacked. A cutting curse maybe. She'll need a blood-replenishing potion –" Remus continued as if no one else was speaking at all. And it would probably have been best if they weren't as Remus was the only one saying anything remotely intelligent.

"—I mean there was that one time with Vanessa Pritchard last year. That was a rushed romance. It's the Gryffindor thing, he's brave you know, it gets to his head, and he just rushes headlong into things –"

"I don't even look like a Harry!"

"—Certainly a healer. Should we take her to Hogwarts?"

"Stop!" Mrs. Potter shouted, and surprisingly enough they did. "Remus, come with me, we'll apparate to Hogwarts. James and Sirius, floo home and contact Dumbledore. Let him know we're coming and that we're bringing an injured unidentified girl."

James and Sirius quickly hurried off in the direction of the Leaky Cauldron and Miranda Potter pulled Remus closer to her.

"We're going to do side-along apparation. You're going to have to give the girl to me, and then hold on to me tightly as we apparate." Remus nodded and complied, transferring the girl into the arms of Miranda Potter before grabbing onto her arm and holding tightly as the rather uncomfortable sensation of being squeezed through a tube began. Just when he was sure that he had suffocated, and that his internal organs were now sufficiently misplaced that he'd never be able to properly digest anything ever again the feeling stopped. He looked around Hogsmeade and then up the hill to where Hogwarts castle stood.

"Here. Take her back, and come with me. Can you carry her?"

He nodded.

"Good."

…

Mr. Potter often wished for his wife's ability to stay calm throughout the many strange crises that occurred in his teenage son's life. From receiving owls from the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts informing him that his son had charmed every suit of armour in the castle to follow students and teachers around singing Christmas ballads in May, or having the four boys over for the summer and finding that they had successfully managed to turn every wall in the house a hideous bright orange while he was out in the garden. He found himself frequently torn between extreme amusement at his son's antics, and disappointment that he received as many notices of misbehaviour from the headmistress as he did. Fortunately for James he often settled with amusement.

So rather unlike he's wife's reaction he was indeed surprised when a rather dazed James and an amused yet slightly worried Sirius emerged in the floo hall.

"What happened? Where's your mother?" Both reasonable questions to be sure. And due to trial and error he probably should have been expecting the rampant loquacity that burst forth from his son and his best friend. Unfortunately for him, he wasn't.

"She came flying at me out of nowhere!"

"I'm never going to let him live this one down. Despite his frequent claims of devoted love to one Lily Evans, who incidentally –"

"—is not part of this story!" James cut in hotly before turning back to his father, "And she was bleeding! She said she was dead, and if she weren't talking to me I'd be inclined to believe her…"

"—considers him an arrogant bully and remains impervious to the Potter charm, which he can't resist throwing at any girl within speaking distance (and some who aren't)." Sirius continued ignoring James' interjections.

"Who came flying at you out of nowhere?" Mr. Potter asked. Though by this point neither of the boys were paying any amount of attention to him.

"I do not throw around my charm at anyone who walks by!"

"Mum Potter said we should tell Dumbledore." Sirius said suddenly, surprising everyone into silence.

"Tell Dumbledore what exactly? Who came flying at you out of nowhere? Why were they bleeding? Where is your mother? And what the _bloody_ hell is going on?"

"Well, you see, nothing would have happened at all if James hadn't led us on a wild goose chase to look for a girl who wasn't even there…"

"I did not!"

Needless to say Mr. Potter quickly gave up trying to figure out what was going on and simply grabbed both boys threw them in the fireplace with a reasonable sized amount of floo powder and said clearly, "Headmaster's Office – Hogwarts." Then, rather reluctantly (as the sudden silence in the house that had fallen as soon as Sirius and James' indignant protests were cut off in a whirl of green flame was immensely satisfying) he followed.

…

Dumbledore was having a good day.

It was just a week and a half until the school term began, and Hogwarts Castle was enjoying its last few days of silence and freedom. Dumbledore himself was enjoying a rather relaxing break in his office with a bag of Sherbet Lemons in his lap. The silence was really quite satisfying.

Until it was abruptly broken by the sudden arrival of two very soot covered young men, who (barely taking the time to stand up properly) immediately launched into what appeared to be an attempt at explaining themselves.

"Mum sent us, she's bringing a girl here, she was hurt." James prided himself on the concise nature of that sentence. Apparently the concussion was wearing off.

"Complete nutter she is."

James glared at Sirius before continuing, "She apparated with Remus, they're probably on their way to the castle now."

"Who is she?" Dumbledore asked, leaning forward in his desk, sherbet lemons forgotten as they rolled out of the bag and onto the floor below.

"I don't know. But she called me Harry! And she came out of nowhere, with these slashes on her arms."

"Did you see an attacker?" Dumbledore stood up and moved towards the fireplace as he spoke.

"No. I didn't even see her until she was right on top of me!"

Sirius snickered at this. James turned and glared at him again.

Dumbledore nodded and picked up a handful of floo powder from a pot near the fireplace and tossed it into the flames.

"Hospital Wing." Seeing that the flames had turned an emerald green he continued, "Poppy Mrs. Potter and Remus Lupin are heading up to the castle with an injured girl."

He got no recognition that James could see but seemed satisfied none the less. He stood up, brushed soot of his robes, turned around and smiled at them.

"Come, I think it's time that we see to our guest." And with that he strode out of the office.

…

The first thing Hermione was aware of was the smell of cleanliness. And not just ordinary 'I just vacuumed this room' cleanliness but the sort of clean smell you get in hospitals where everything has been sterilized to death. The second thing she was aware of was a gentle throbbing sensation on her forearms and her back, which, she expertly concluded, was most likely the reason she was in a hospital.

Bravely, (she was a Gryffindor after all), she attempted to open her eyes. She immediately regretted it and shut them again to block out the blinding light. Groaning she rolled over and stuffed her face into the pillow.

"Ah. I see you are awake."

She knew that voice. Rolling over she opened her eyes again, blinked stupidly several times and watched as the face of Albus Dumbledore came into focus.

"How are you feeling?"

Hermione opened her mouth with the intent of informing him that she was fine, but wound up making a strange sort of croaking sound instead. She frowned but Dumbledore simply smiled, reached over and poured her a glass of water, which she quickly drank.

"Better?"

"Much. Thank you."

He nodded. Then leaned back in his chair and appeared to be studying her.

"Do you know where you are?"

Hermione frowned, looked around, and nodded, "The Hogwarts Hospital Wing."

"And do you know who I am?"

"Professor Dumbledore. How did I get here? I was in Diagon Alley, with Harry and Ron…"

The older man frowned and continued to study her. "James mentioned that you called him Harry. Who may I ask are Harry and Ron?"

Immediately Hermione was aware that something was very, very wrong. She had written off her encounter with James Potter as a strange dream, and really only recalled it now that Dumbledore mentioned his name. But why didn't he know who Harry was?

"Do you know who I am, sir?"

He looked at her intently before answering the with the words she was hoping desperately not to hear, "No, I'm afraid I do not."

Before she could stop herself she blurted, "Well you should."

His eyebrows raised slightly, "Should I?"

She blushed. _I can't believe I just said that to the headmaster. What must he think of me?_ "Erm… well. I mean, yes you should. Or you ought to, as I know you."

"—And it would appear as if you have me at a disadvantage." He cut in smoothly, "So, would you be so kind as to give me your name?"

"Hermione Granger."

"And how, if I may ask, did you come to be injured Miss Granger?"

"Death Eater attack."

His face registered brief surprise before slipping back into neutrality. "Where exactly were you attacked?"

"Diagon Alley, sir." She was surprised he hadn't heard, but quickly realized she shouldn't be. Nothing else made sense, he didn't know who she was, nor who Harry and Ron were, and clearly he'd had a conversation with James Potter who was dead, and thus couldn't possibly speak to anyone…

It hit her suddenly, rather like a ton of bricks.

"Sir, what year is it?"

"1976. Am I correct in assuming that is not what you were expecting?"

"No sir."

He nodded and regarded her rather seriously, "And what year was it you were expecting?"

"1996."

He nodded again, "Well that clears things up."

She barely refrained from snorting in what would be considered a very unladylike manner, and instead said, "It does sir?"

"Well, yes Miss Granger. As it is now 1976, and as far as you were aware it was 1996 the only logical conclusion is that you have somehow gone back in time. I can only assume that you are a student at this school, which explains how you know me, and as you will not be a student here for several years, I have not yet met you, nor your friends Harry and Ron."

She nodded, not trusting herself to form coherent sentences. She was twenty years in the past, before she was even born. And all she had so far managed to do was tackle Harry's father. She felt a sudden urge to crawl under the blankets and never come out again.

"Were you hit with any spell that would have sent you back in time? Or come into contact with any other magical item that could have brought you here?"

"No. I don't know. I don't remember." _Great. Crystal clear answer Hermione. Your eloquence is astounding. _

"What am I going to do sir?"

He smiled happily down at her, "Well you'll continue your learning. You are welcome at this school Miss Granger. The school can supply you with a small fund to buy your school things, and I will explain your situation to the Potters, I'm sure they'll be glad to take you in."

And before she could protest he had slipped beyond the curtain and walked out of the wing.

"Peachy. Just peachy." She said to the ceiling.

…

**Parting Shots**: So that's chapter two! There was quite a bit going on, and a lot of shuffling around to different places, but I promise things will start to calm down once Hermione starts to get settled. Critique is appreciated. I'm not entirely pleased with the Dumbledore scenes, but he's a tricky character to write.

A sincere thanks to _And So The Wolf Howls, WhYiStHeRuMgOnE, a, _and _Riley Black_ for their wonderful reviews.


	3. A Pillow Fortress

Hermione awoke in a bedroom. Not just any bedroom, but a rather large, well furnished, well heated, splendidly decorated bedroom. It was also curiously devoid of throw pillows, despite the sofa and numerous chairs around the room. At the foot of the bed she was currently occupying was a change of clothes.

Deciding anything was better than a hospital gown she grabbed the t-shirt (which looked too large for her small frame and was emblazoned with the words "chasers do it with their brooms") and what appeared to be boxers (adorned with golden snitches happily zooming around in circles) and couldn't quite decide whether to burst out laughing or to find someone and demand a proper set of clothes.

Deciding that the former would probably be considered odd if anyone was to walk by the room, and the latter would be embarrassing, (would you want to wander around a foreign household in nothing but a hospital gown? I thought not), she put on the ridiculous t-shirt and boxers and vowed to avoid all mirrors on the premises.

"Where am I?"

The last thing she remembered was being in the Hospital Wing at Hogwarts, which this most certainly was not. She had talked to Dumbledore. What had he said? That she was welcome at Hogwarts for the school year. And that he'd explain her situation to the Potters.

"I'm at the Potters."

She stood in the middle of the room with snitches zooming around on the boxers she had most likely borrowed from Harry's father, and started laughing.

Once her impromptu fit of hysterical laughter had passed she found herself staring up at the ceiling. "I'm at the Potter's house. It's 1976. I am living in the same building as Harry's father, godfather and my old professor, all of which are about my age."

Another giggle escaped. She clamped a hand over her mouth determined to stop the insane giggling she seemed to have become prone to in the last 24 hours. Once she was satisfied that the hysterics had truly stopped, she stood up and moved towards the door.

The next order of business, she determined, was to use the bathroom. Unfortunately this was easier said than done as she stepped out into a hallway that was rather long, wonderfully carpeted, and riddled with doors. Unsurprisingly, none of the doors were labelled. She sighed slightly and started with the door closest to her left.

It opened into a room that seemed similar to the one she had woken up in, but significantly more lived in. Clothes were strewn across the floor. As were books, papers, quills, a stuffed bear (wearing a small shirt that said 'Sir Tedward' on it), a bag of candy, a sandwich (which seemed to have been there for a while), a telescope, a large pile of dungbombs and Dr. Filibuster's Fabulous Wet-Start No-Heat Fireworks, several empty Honeydukes bags and a gobstones set. Deciding, rather intelligently, that this clearly wasn't the bathroom she closed the door and moved to the next one on her left.

She was about to open the door when she heard hushed voices coming from within the room. Unable to clearly make out what it was they were saying she decided that whoever they were, they probably would know where the bathroom was. Biting her lower lip, she knocked gently on the door. The hushed voices from inside the room stopped almost immediately and after a moment the door opened a crack revealing a messy haired, pyjama-clad James Potter.

"Hi." He opened the door fully revealing Sirius and Remus (similarly pyjama-clad) sitting in the middle of what could arguably be considered the largest collection of pillows known to mankind. All the pillows, from the very small roll sized ones they had stolen from the couch downstairs, to the rather large pillows taken from the master bedroom, had been arranged into a massive fort.

It took Hermione a moment to remember why she had knocked in the first place. "I'm looking for your bathroom."

"Oh," he said, "it's just down the hall, third door on this side. The house elves will bring you anything you need if you want to take a shower too."

She smiled. "Thanks." And with that she turned with as much dignity as one wearing someone else's boxers can do and walked off to the bathroom. She pretended not to notice James' quiet snickering behind her.

The bathroom, like everything else, was huge. Tentatively she pulled her hair back from her face and looked into the mirror. Her reflection frowned back at her, with bushy hair flying everywhere and dark circles under her eyes.

"Not the best look dear, but nothing a good glamour won't fix," chirped the mirror.

"Shut up," she grumbled before turning to the bathtub.

…

"So, what do you think?" asked Remus from his position amid the multitude of coloured pillows they had collected that morning.

"Of what?" James asked, passing a glass of pumpkin juice over to Sirius. "Don't spill it. Mum'll have a fit," he added.

"Of the girl who's running around in your underwear, dolt," Sirius said, "what did you think Moony was going on about? The weather?"

James mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like 'not my underwear. Mum made me do give it to her'.

"She's certainly odd," continued Remus, "but Dumbledore seems to trust her, and so do your parents, or she wouldn't be here."

"I don't understand that. I mean, she comes out of nowhere, bleeding all over the place and has one talk with Dumbledore and all of a sudden your parents take her in?"

James nodded.

"Plus," continued Sirius, "we've never seen her before. Clearly she doesn't go to Hogwarts, and she didn't sound foreign. Where's she been going to school? And who attacked her?"

"Or what," added Remus while passing a plate of cookies of the living room wall of the pillow fort to James.

"No. Who. It was a cutting curse, I'm sure of it."

Nobody spoke for a little while, as all three of the boys ate their cookies while deep in thought.

Suddenly Remus looked up. "She's headed back to her room."

Sirius nodded and stood; opening the door a crack he poked his head out and said, "hey."

…

The house-elves had managed to obtain shampoo, towels, a washcloth, a bar of soap, a toothbrush and a clean change of clothes for Hermione all without being seen. Despite her conscience berating her for not simply finding those things herself and instead relying on slave labour, she had to marvel at their ability to run a household smoothly. Unfortunately her clothes left something to be desired.

Another oversized t-shirt, this time with the words 'I survived OWL potions' and a loose skirt were waiting for her when she stepped out of the shower. The skirt she could deal with, the shirt she was seriously considering wearing inside-out.

Deciding it was better not to appear ungrateful and rude (as it was either the t-shirt or the hospital gown – she didn't consider going naked a viable option) she put the shirt on and tried very hard not to look down. It probably would have been easier if the cauldron on the front of the shirt didn't keep exploding and sending multi-coloured goo all over the letters (which in turn changed their colour accordingly).

"Hey."

She turned and saw Sirius' head poking out of James' room.

"Would you like to join us?" he asked, with a smirk.

As much as she intensely desired company, she wasn't really sure she was ready to face them yet. Particularly since the more she talked to them, the more likely she was to screw things up and completely destroy the future of the universe as she knew it. On the other hand, she'd really rather have someone to talk to than sit alone in an empty room.

"Sure," she nodded. Immediately she was overwhelmed with the feeling that this was a very, very bad idea. Unfortunately Sirius had already turned and motioned for her to enter the room. After taking a deep breath, she did.

The first thing she noticed was that her suspicions were correct and it was indeed a pillow fort in the middle of the room.

Sirius, noting her scrutiny, came up behind her and said, "we made it ourselves."

She almost snorted. "I can see that. Very nice work. I like how you've colour coordinated the west wing," she gestured over to the western corner which was made up entirely of red and gold pillows. "And the embroidered pillows at the entrance really rather spectacular."

Sirius nodded gravely, "Well, it is best to make a good first impression. Where better to do so than the entrance? Would you like to choose a room for yourself?"

She considered for a moment before stepping carefully through the entrance and sitting down in a room made primarily of purple throw pillows.

"Ah, the lounge. Excellent choice," Remus said seriously amid a torrent of pink and orange pillows.

She nodded dumbly unable to formulate a response in the face of such a blatant lack of colour coordination.

He smirked noting her dazed expression. "This room is a bit colourful, don't you think?"

She nodded again.

He looked at one particularly pink pillow in the shape of a heart for a moment before casually charming the pillows around him to a gentle blue.

"Better?"

"Much." She smiled, scarcely able to believe that the boy in front of her would one day become her professor.

"Cookie?" James asked. Without waiting for an answer he levitated the plate over to her and balanced it (rather precariously in Hermione's opinion) on a purple throw pillow that looked suspiciously like it belonged to a chair in the room she had awoken in.

"Thanks," she said as she rescued the plate of cookies from a fate reminiscent of Humpty Dumpty.

"So. Do you have a name? Or should I just give you one?"

James snorted and Remus looked as if torn between the desire to corner Sirius and lecture him on his lack of manners and to laugh hysterically – the interesting mixture of which came out sounding like a half-strangled cough.

"Hermione Granger." As soon as she said it she wanted to slap herself. Why on earth did she give them her real name? What exactly was going to happen when a thirteen year old Hermione Granger (with equally bushy hair) wound up in Remus Lupin's class room?

Sirius nodded, seemingly oblivious to her internal dilemma. "I'm Sirius Black, this is James Potter," he pointed towards James who was perched rather royally on a stack of red pillows, "and Remus Lupin," he gestured over at Remus who waved politely. "And where are you from?"

"Beauxbatons." There, finally an intelligent answer.

"You don't sound French," Remus said curiously.

"I'm not." The best lies are based upon truth, right? "My parents live in London, I just go to school in France."

"Why?"

"Erm… well. They thought I ought to learn another language…" She racked her brain for every bit of knowledge she had on the French language. Which, probably due to her habit of learning everything about any subject she set her mind to, happened to be quite a bit.

"Oh." Sirius said, though he seemed rather unconvinced.

"You go to Hogwarts then?" she asked, despite the fact that she was well aware of the answer.

"Yeah. It's brilliant." James said, speaking for the first time since she'd entered the room.

"I'm transferring there this year."

Immediately she lauded her own brilliance. All three of the boys' interest sparked at this tid-bit and they immediately launched into a thorough explanation of how wonderful Hogwarts was (of which she was already very convinced), where to go and where not to go (which she, of course, already knew), what to expect, and one hundred and one reasons why Slytherin was a rather nasty house to be associated with.

"So you're Gryffindors then?"

"Of course! And there isn't a better house to be found –"

"McGonagall is strict as hell but definitely fair –"

"Best bloody Quiddich team in the school –"

"—You'll find her classes are very good. She teaches Transfiguration –"

"—Had the cup for the last two years."

"—Hufflepuff is a bit of a joke really, and the Ravenclaws, well, they're alright, and the Slytherin's are a right nasty bunch, largest collection of pig-headed slimeballs in Britain," Sirius finished with a snort.

"What's your favourite class?" Remus asked suddenly.

"Favourite? I'd have to say Arithmancy," she paused and thought for a moment, "it's absolutely fascinating, and I love working with numbers. But I enjoy all the subjects."

James stared at her as if she had just grown another head.

Sirius made a strangled noise that reminded Hermione of a dying cat before leaping back and knocking over the pillow wall to the ballroom. He sat up amid a pile of matching red and white pillows and gaped at her.

"_All_ of them?" he finally managed to choke out.

She nodded. "Well, no. I rather loathe Divination."

Sirius let out a bark-like laugh and fell back into the pile of pillows causing an explosion of feathers to rain down upon the occupants of the room.

"Is he… alright?" she asked tentitivly.

"Oh no," said James, "he's never been alright. But you needn't worry, he is normal."

Hermione nodded again, doubting that the word 'normal' should ever be used within a ten-mile radius of the name 'Sirius Black' and then sneezed rather violently as a feather tried to fly up her nose.

Suddenly the door opened and Mrs. Potter stuck her head into the room. "James have you seen," she paused for a moment and then smiled at Hermione. "Oh, there you are. Come dear, Albus wants to speak with you," she turned around and looked at her son whose hair had managed to trap a signifigant number of feathers in it and said, "and James, clean up this mess and put all the pillows back. Before dinner, if you please."

James nodded, causing several feathers to fall out of his hair. His nose twitched.

Miranda Potter smiled, and closed the door just in time to muffle James' sneeze.

…

**Parting Shots**: Err… yes. This is what happens when I take my notebook to Starbucks.

A sincere thanks to: _amrawo, weasleytwinsarehott, Miss Spazz, _and _Blossom1098_ for leaving wonderful reviews. Reviews make me happy, and encourage me to bring my notebook to Starbucks more often.

PEF.


	4. A Marauder Mystery

**Important Author's Note:** Chapter One has been re-submitted after some drastic editing. I highly recommend you re-read it. Thanks, and my apologies if this causes any kind of confusion.

-- PEF (which, incidentally, stands for Pervy Elf Fancier. Just, you know, if anyone was wondering…)

…

"Ah, Mrs. Granger, excellent." Dumbledore said with a smile as Hermione entered the room.

Mrs. Potter gestured for her to take a seat, and, as kind as she was, it did little to make Hermione feel any less nervous. She was suddenly very aware of the oversized t-shirt she was wearing, and the fact that her bushy hair was now home to a great deal of feathers.

"I have explained the unique nature of your situation to the Potters. You are welcome to stay here for the remainder of the holidays."

Hermione smiled politely. "Thank you for your hospitality."

Mr. Potter inclined his head and smiled kindly.

"The school will supply you with a starting fund with which you may purchase you school things," Dumbledore continued.

"Thank you," she said again.

"I understand you were talking with the boys earlier," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling behind his glasses and surveying Hermione in what seemed to be amusement before lingering on the feathers stuck in her hair.

She nodded. Not bothering to wonder how he knew that.

"Ah. And, if I may ask, what have you told them?"

"Erm… my name," she cringed slightly. "It was pretty stupid but I can't exactly take it back now."

He nodded, his expression giving away nothing.

"Oh, and I told them I came from Beauxbatons, and that my parents sent me there to learn French even though we live in England."

He nodded again.

"It was the only thing I could think of to say," she said apologetically.

"Have you told them anything else?"

She racked her brain replaying the conversation in her mind before shaking her head. "No."

Dumbledore smiled widely, "Excellent. Your Beauxbatons story will do nicely. As for your name, as you said, there is nothing to be done about it."

He stood up, smiled at Mr. and Mrs. Potter before bidding Hermione a cheery "good day" and strolling merrily out of the room.

…

After a long and exhausting shopping trip to Diagon Alley where she found that Dumbledore had, as promised, provided her with a fund with which she was able to buy her school supplies, as well as a few good sets of clothes (she was secretly glad she wouldn't be wearing James' boxers anymore) the last thing Hermione wanted to do was move. Unfortunately, Mrs. Potter seemed to have other ideas.

"Dinner!"

Hermione groaned, then pulled on one of her new jumpers and trudged downstairs.

She ran into James in the hallway (fortunately not literally this time), who was now accompanied by three boys. Sirius and Remus she knew, but the third boy who was blond, blue eyed and slightly chubby, the combination of which resulted in an almost charming boyish appearance that Hermione would have found almost appealing if she weren't aware of who this most likely was.

"Hermione this is Peter."

Peter held out his hand (which she noted still had all five fingers) and said, "It's nice to meet you. Sirius said you made quite an impression on James." He smiled teasingly.

James snorted. "Still have the bump and everything…"

She blushed.

"The food's getting cold, if you're not down here in one minute I'm feeding it to the house-elves!" Came the shout from downstairs.

"We should go," said Hermione, ignoring Peter's outstretched hand, something which did not go unnoticed by the four marauders.

"Did I say something wrong?" Peter asked curiously after she disappeared from sight.

"She's a girl mate, there's really no knowing. It's too bad she went shopping though, I thought she looked smashing in Prongs' boxers." Sirius said before clapping Peter on the back and heading down to dinner.

Remus laughed, while James looked sheepish.

"You made her wear your boxers Prongs? Well no wonder she won't have anything to do with me since _you_ introduced us." Peter said with a snort before heading after Sirius. "C'mon I'm starving, and your mum always makes such good food."

Remus chuckled and followed obligingly as James fell into step with Peter.

…

Hermione couldn't help staring at Peter over dinner. Staring at all of them really. The differences were astounding.

If someone had told her that the small blue-eyed boy who was casually joking with his friends in a manner that spoke of casual closeness would one day betray his friends she would have laughed.

But it was true, she reminded herself, recalling the man who had begged for mercy in the shrieking shack in her third year.

It was hard to even think of them as the same person. And Sirius was amazing. She remembered the Azkaban escapee as being rather drawn and haunted, but he showed none of that now. He was happy, carefree and cheerful. His smile lit up his entire face in a way she had never seen before.

It was hard to believe he'd be dead. Or that James would be dead. Betrayed by the friend they now causally teased. Or that Remus would be left all alone.

She looked down at her barely touched dinner and tried desperately not to cry.

"Excuse me," she murmured then rushed upstairs to her room, well aware that all eyes were watching her exit.

"Is she alright?" Peter asked in concern after she had left.

James frowned then gave him a look that said clearly that they'd be discussing it later in private.

Nodding, Peter returned to his meal.

…

"So what's the big deal with Hermione?" asked Peter when they'd finally retreated to James' room.

"Dunno," said James. "But everything about her has been strange. First she appears out of nowhere and bowls me over –"

"And then you spontaneously propose to her –" added Sirius.

James glared. "I was distraught!"

Sirius jumped back theatrically.

"That sounds like you're channelling Myrtle, Prongs."

"It's a little creepy," added Remus seriously.

"Very," put in Peter.

"Secondly," continued James, as if no such Myrtle channelling had occurred, "she's all injured for no apparent reason."

"She was injured?" interjected Peter. "You didn't mention that before!"

Remus snorted, "that's because Sirius was too busy regaling us with the tale of James' proposal."

"That will go down in history, it will." Sirius said with a wistful smile. "Most tragically unromantic and sudden marriage proposal in the history of Hogwarts."

James glowered. "Yes, yes. It was unromantic, spontaneous, and I'll never live it down. Quit beating a dead horse. And yes, she was injured. Cutting curse or something."

Peter frowned. "But who…?"

"Dunno… there was no-one around. Anyway, thirdly, she talks with Dumbledore and all of a sudden she's transferring to Hogwarts. I mean have you ever even heard of a transfer student before?"

"It's rare but it does happen," said Remus. "In cases where the family moves, or deems the previous school unsuitable."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Look out everyone, Professor Moony is on the loose."

"Fourthly," James said. "She doesn't sound French."

"She's not French though," Remus cut in. "She said she lives in England."

"Yes," James said impatiently. "But if she speaks French all year you'd think it would have some effect on her speech. That she'd use French phrases occasionally or have some kind of an accent."

Remus rolled his eyes, "How do you know she doesn't? You haven't spent much time with her."

"Are you saying it's not strange?"

"No, I agree, the circumstances around her arrival, and your parents' quick acceptance of her is certainly odd, but I wouldn't go analyzing her speech patterns yet."

"And what was with that episode at dinner?" Sirius said.

Remus waved it off. "She's probably homesick or something."

"I'd agree except she was staring at us all through dinner," said Peter. "It creeped me out frankly."

James and Sirius nodded as Remus frowned.

"It's certainly odd," Sirius finally said.

"And odd is our specialty," said James with a grin.

"I thought pranks and rule breaking were our specialty," remarked Peter casually. "I do hope you haven't changed it without me."

"Odd things, pranks and rule-breaking are all marauder specialties," Sirius said with an emphatic nod. "We're multi-talented."

Remus snorted.

"I propose we get to the bottom of this," James said. "Specialty or not."

"More gallivanting and adventures?" Remus asked politely.

"Late night crusades?" added Peter.

"Awkward moments wandering around the castle late at night, dodging prefects –"

"That's gotten harder now that Dumbledore gave goody boy Moony a nice shiny badge," teased Sirius.

"It could be dangerous," said Peter seriously.

"And marauders laugh in the face of danger!" Sirius said, jumping up onto James' bed and waving around an imaginary sword, skewering the pillows.

"Hey!" Shouted James, jumping up to defend his honourable pillows (of which there were quite a few, remnants of the defeated pillow fortress).

Despite James' honourable pillow saving intentions, the whole thing became a giant wrestling match, which swept up Peter and Remus as James and Sirius tumbled off the bed scattering pillows in all directions.

Sirius sat up with as much dignity as one who has just been defeated in an impromptu wrestling match could muster and said, "so, are you in?"

Peter nodded, brushing his mussed up hair out of his face. "Of course."

"Excellent!" James said, though it came out rather muffled as his face was buried in a mound of pillows. "And you Remus?"

"Of course I'm in, someone has to keep you all out of trouble."

Sirius gave an indignant shout and lobbed a pillow at Remus' head, but missed him by quite a bit and hit Peter in the face instead.

Peter, upset that he was unfairly beaten by a flying cushion grabbed another pillow and through it back at Sirius. However, due to a rather unfortunate miscalculation in his aim, the pillow hit James instead who in turn lobbed pillows at everyone. And thus started the largest pillow fight ever recorded.

…

**Parting Shots:** My apologies for the delay, I was in Ontario visiting relatives. And, after suffering a severe case of jet-lag, I bring you this: chapter four! It's shorter than usual, but Marauder filled none the less.


	5. A Welcome Homecoming

A/N: A sincere thanks to HJaneGranger who edited this chapter and made it legible.

Hermione smiled as she stared at the large scarlet engine that was currently filling platform nine and three quarters with steam. The air was buzzing with excitement as students milled around bidding goodbye to parents, meeting up with friends, suddenly realizing what it was they forgot to pack (the most common item was a toothbrush – not all cases of which were accidental) or (in the soon to be first years' cases) looking extremely nervous.

"Brilliant isn't it?" Sirius asked from somewhere near her ear. His breath on the side of her face made her shiver. Unconsciously, she took a step back and smiled nervously at him. He only smirked in response and sauntered off towards the train.

Remus snorted.

"Come, you can stay in our compartment," he said kindly, then reached down and lifted her trunk. Fortunately for Remus (who, despite his gentlemanly intentions was now stuck carrying his trunk and Hermione's) he was aided by James.

They shuffled down the hallway in the train, dodging three lost looking first years, a fat boy with a large obnoxious toad, a gang of boys so surly that Hermione was certain they must be Slytherins, and finally made their way to the end of the train.

"Ah! Excellent," Sirius said before tossing his trunk rather haphazardly onto the rack and turning to Hermione. "Welcome, darling, to the great compartment of the Marauders!"

He paused as if waiting for applause.

James, showing his intelligence, took that as an opportunity to walk into the compartment and flop down on the seat. Remus and Peter piled in after him, both dragging Hermione's trunk in and depositing it on the rack.

Hermione stood awkwardly in the doorway, feeling distinctly like she was intruding on something very personal.

"Have a seat, there's no need to stand on ceremony," Peter said teasingly.

She blushed and sat down in the corner, hoping that the trip would pass quickly.

It didn't.

At first it seemed as if things would be all right. Hermione brought out her new spellbooks from her trunk and began to read through them for the third time (much to the amusement of the other occupants of the compartment). She had just reached the section in her Transfiguration textbook that dealt with changing the appearance of one's ears when someone poked her in the knee.

Starting slightly (she had become immersed in her reading and had long since forgotten that there was anyone else in her general vicinity) she was surprised to see everyone staring at her expectantly.

"Erm… sorry. What?"

Sirius smiled widely. "I just wanted to know if you wanted to play chess."

She spied a chess set reassembling itself after what appeared to have been a gruelling game.

"I just beat James, you see," continued Sirius.

A sound of protest was heard from James' corner of the compartment.

"So at this time I'm the undisputed champion. I took his queen with my knight, which was his downfall really. Because with his queen gone my bishop was free to check his king and it was all downhill from there."

Hermione nodded, wondering absently if he had always rambled this much. Or would ramble this much. Stupid tenses.

"So would you like to lose a game of chess?" The insult of the query was dulled by the charming smile that accompanied it.

"Since you put it that way: no."

And with that she returned to Chapter 16: Transfiguring Your Ears for All Occasions. Larger ears for eavesdropping, stronger ears to hold up particularly large earrings, multi-coloured ears to impress your friends and even tiny ears in the exact shape and size of the keyhole of your choice so that you won't miss anything that goes on behind closed doors.

She had read nearly a paragraph when she felt another poke.

"What?"

"Would you play if you'd win?"

She stared at him for a moment. "Do you want me to play?"

Peter said, "Yes," at the same time as Sirius said, "Not really."

Hermione looked sceptical.

"Sirius, James, Remus and I always play. Sirius always beats James –"

"—Does not!" said the rather delusional James.

Peter ignored him. "Remus always beats me. Remus beats Sirius, and James and I lose about equally."

"But it never really matters because I always win," Sirius said, smirking broadly.

"Except when you play Remus," James put in snidely.

"Hey, leave me out of your domestic disputes, guys."

"Yes, it's bad enough that you act like an old married couple in private, but must you do it while we have company?" Peter teased.

Hermione snorted at the sudden mental image of Sirius in a frilly apron waving a feather duster at James. Old married couple indeed.

Sirius pointed theatrically at James. "It's bad enough you inflict everyone you meet with your rampant egotism."

"_My_ egotism? What about your spontaneous theatrics?" came the response.

"Your poor flirting skills, your delusions of grandeur, your stupid hair!" This was said equally theatrically.

"Exhibitionism! Wounded inner child!" James paused suddenly. "Hey! My flirting skills are way better than yours!"

Hermione turned bright red from the effort not to giggle.

Sirius frowned. "What's that condition where one always has to have the last word?"

"Marriage," Remus quipped, then turned to Hermione and asked conversationally, "Do you play chess?"

She was momentarily unable to respond due to the pain from the rib she had most likely cracked whilst trying hard not to laugh. In a vain attempt to regain some semblance of dignity, she looked away from Remus. She immediately realized this was a mistake as the first thing she set eyes on was Sirius sulking petulantly in the corner. That particular sight was her breaking point and she collapsed into hysterical giggles.

The Marauders, kind and generous souls that they were, would never let a lady laugh alone, so they eagerly joined in.

After they had all suitably laughed themselves into exhaustion, James piped up from his position on the floor, "So, do you play chess?"

"No." She smiled, remembering the fifty points Ron had won for Gryffindor for the 'best played game of chess Hogwarts has ever seen'.

She was brought out of her reverie by Peter's disappointed sigh.

"Do you play cards?" James asked.

"No."

Sirius snorted. "Do you play _anything_?"

She shrugged. "Not really."

"You're boring," Peter blurted out suddenly.

Hermione went very still. "Am I?" she said harshly.

Peter seemed to shrink into himself.

"Hey, calm down. He was only kidding. Besides, you are boring if all you do is read textbooks. What do you do for fun?" Sirius drawled from his position on the floor with his head on Remus' stomach.

She shrugged.

"_Nothing?_ You can't think of anything you do for fun?"

She shrugged again, feeling exposed and stupid under their scrutiny.

"Well," said James suddenly, sitting up, knocking into Remus and sending Sirius flying, "we'll just have to teach you then. We can't have young ladies wasting away. It's unethical. It's immoral. It's… it's…"

"Wicked!" exclaimed Sirius.

"Yes! Wicked, and vile! And…"

"Unprincipled, dishonourable, disreputable," put in Remus helpfully.

"And just plain wrong," finished Peter.

And with that, they shoved the chessboard in front of her and James proudly declared, "You play black."

It was then Hermione realized that she wouldn't be getting back to her book anytime soon.

…

Hermione had gotten into a carriage without thinking after leaving the train. It was only halfway through the carriage ride that she realized she hadn't been sorted yet. Suddenly all traces of hunger were gone.

Not that she wanted to go with the first years. She thought going by boat was lovely for those seeing the castle for the first time, but the prospect of being the only sixteen year old in a crowd of eleven year olds was not appealing. But what was she going to do when she got into the Great Hall? She couldn't exactly waltz up and plop down at the Gryffindor table.

Furthermore, what if she wasn't sorted into Gryffindor? True, Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad, and she'd be away from anyone that she'd know in the future. But James, Remus, Sirius and surprisingly, Peter were the only people she'd gotten to know, and she didn't want to be separated from them now.

Far too quickly the ride was over and students began piling out of the carriages and into the school.

The first thing Hermione noticed as she entered the Great Hall was that it was exactly the same. It didn't matter that she didn't recognize any of the students, or that she didn't know quite a few of the teachers, it was still the same. Dumbledore caught her eye and gestured for her to come forward. Smiling gratefully, she did.

"Stand off to the side if you please, Ms. Granger," he said. "I'll introduce you after the new first years have been sorted."

"Do I need to be sorted sir?"

He looked at her and smiled. "Of course, my dear. Every new student needs to be sorted."

She nodded, feeling stupid.

"Now, off to the side if you please."

Hermione immediately decided she didn't like standing at the side of the head table at all. For starters she was facing the hall. Secondly, she stood out like a sore thumb this way, and already heads were craning to get a look at her. A whisper, like a ripple, spread through the hall, getting louder as more and more people noticed her presence. She occupied herself with making sure that her shoes were clean. She noted that a splatter of dirt had managed to make it up onto the toe of her shoe and tried to inconspicuously rub it off with her other foot.

Finally, when she thought she could bear the scrutiny no longer, the first years marched in. She almost smiled, noting that they looked nearly as terrified as she felt.

After "Young, Todd," was sorted into Hufflepuff, Dumbledore stepped forward and Hermione's stomach gave an unpleasant lurch.

"Welcome, welcome to another school year. I trust you have all had a long enough break this summer to have forgotten everything you've learned."

A few people laughed.

"It gives me great pleasure to introduce Ms. Granger," he gestured for her to step forward. "Who will be joining us for her sixth year of education. I trust you will all make her feel welcome." He nodded towards the stool.

Hermione stepped forward far more confidently than she felt, well aware that every set of eyes in the hall were directed at her as the brim of the Sorting Hat cut off her vision.

After a small moment of panic in which she was sure the hat was going to refuse to sort her, or send her to Slytherin, the brim opened and announced to the whole hall: "GRYFFINDOR."

Nearly shaking with relief she stood and placed hat back on the stool before rushing off to the Gryffindor table and sitting at the only available spot – the one right at the end. But it didn't matter. The table was familiar, even if the people weren't, and she wasn't able to stop smiling.

Barely refraining from laughing at the amazed gasps of the first years as food filled every platter in the room, she happily dug into all the food Hogwarts had to offer. No longer nervous and unsure she took the time to look around the hall.

Over at the Slytherin table she noted a boy with long greasy dark hair and a scowl affixed to his face as if he found the whole world beneath him. Nearly bursting out into hysterics, she mentally noted that her future Potions professor seemed to have the same temperament at sixteen that he had at thirty-three.

The only other person she recognized was a red haired Gryffindor chatting animatedly with her friends. She looked up at Hermione and smiled kindly. Hermione nearly fell off the bench. She recognized the girl from the album Harry had of his parents.

So there they were. Now she'd seen the whole set. She was going to school with her best friend's parents, his godfather, her old Potions professor, and her favourite Defence Against the Dark Arts professor.

It was all very absurd.

But it didn't matter. After the feast Hermione was swept up in the crowd of people heading for the Gryffindor common room, and from there found her way up into a dorm already inhabited by three other girls (one of which was Harry's mother).

Hermione collapsed onto the four-poster bed and grinned manically at the ceiling.

Finally, she was home.

** Parting Shots**: A big thank you to THE-GIRL-WHO-CRIED-WOLF, Mrs. St. John Allerdyce, donahermurphy, kakashisninjadogs, amrawo, Hey Buttface XD, Miss Spaz, and JennaB who reviewed chapter four. Reviews are greatly appreciated. I'd also like to thank RosieLady, Miss Spaz, sln1987, Amber, Moon of Time, Dracosfairyprincess, Blossom1098, and amrawo for reviewing chapter 3. I would have thanked you in chapter four, but I'm an idiot and forgot to. So you get a bigger thank you now: THANK YOU!.

Lots of Love,

PEF.


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